The Princess and The Maid
by AnnLunar
Summary: It is not becoming of a princess to kiss a maid. Especially if the princess is holding a competition for thirty five men to try and win her heart. Somebody should have told Eadlyn Schreave five years ago that she would have no choice but to hold a Selection. Before she decided that she liked it when a palace maid, Olivia Lands, kissed her.
1. Disclaimer

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Heir or any of the Selection novels/novellas. Al rights go to Kiera Cass. Olivia is an original character created by myself.*_

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE(AN): This story was thought of in my own head. Please do not copy. This story deals with a girlxgirl relationship, so if your not 'bout that life, don't read. This is also rated T, because of language and possible sexy fun times.**


	2. Chapter 1: Seven Minutes

I could not hold my breathe for seven minutes. I can't even mange one. I tried to run a mile in seven minutes, but failed tremendously. There is one thing, however, I could do in seven minutes: I became queen.

By seven minutes, I beat my twin brother, Ahren, into the world. Had this been years earlier, he would've gotten it. But for some absurd ass reason, my parents decided to give it to me. So from day one, I was trained to become the next Queen of Illea.

It seems that my darling parents don't seem to understand that their attempts to make my life seem fair, seemed awfully unfair to me. For instance, despite the fact that I will become queen one day, they are still forcing me to have a Selection. With boys. Gross.

I know how lucky I am. I really do. Everytime I open the Illea Times there seems to be another riot somewhere. Twenty years ago, when my parents found their fucking fairy-tale dream romance, Dad' first act as King was to abolish the dumbfuck caste system. Most people rejoiced. Others were hella pissed. I, personally, found the idea of number labels to be stupid. Why did it matter if the person next to me was a Two or a Six? But, alas, other people apparently thought it was necessary.

Which brings me back to why I am being forced to have a Selection. To appease these peasants- I mean to "find my true love" as Neena, one of my two maids, puts it. She makes it sound lovely. The girl could make a public canning sound like a garden picnic.

I know that the Selection will not be lovely. It will be Hell on Earth.

Just close your eyes and imagine it: thirty-five suitors in your house, eating your food, trying to win your heart.

Now, imagine that you are in my position: Eighteen and the future ruler of a country about to go to hell. Eighteen and spending your entire life living in one huge ass palace, no friends other than the maids, and your mother's friend's kids. Who, by-the-way, are fricken obnoxious. Eighteen and about to have thirty-five men compete for your hand. Eighteen and not interested.

Eighteen and in love with another. A blonde haired beauty who shares your affections. Who spend the nights with you, as they don't get off the palace shift 'til nine thirty. Kissing softly, and passionately. Shushing your giggles, as your parents absolutely will not be happy if they find out.

Eighteen and alone. Completely alone. But not really.

There is another thing that I can do in seven minutes.

In seven minutes, I will be out of this fucking meeting. Seven minutes, I will be able to see my love.

I will be able to see a certain palace maid. And I will be free. At least for a little while.

But it's better than nothing, I suppose.

 **A/N: The first part of the story about "seven minutes" was taking from The Heir by Kiera Cass. I know that I just paraphrased it. Please don't kill me.**


	3. Chapter 2: Late For A Date

Even after the time that we were supposed to get out of the Damn meeting, we still weren't out. And I had totally forgotten that Dad had wanted to see me afterwards. Fuck. Though maybe it won't be too bad, after all, Dad is sitting to my right. Maybe I won't die of boredom.

Pffft. Yeah right.

We end at ten, due to the fact that Dad is sick if this shit. Not too bad, I guess. Only half an hour late. It could be much worse. I could miss my love entirely.

When everybody has left, Dad calls me over. I act cheerful about this, when I'm really thinking hurry the fuck up, I'm already late.

"Hey, Dad. What's going on?" I ask, shoving as much cheer into my tired voice as possible.

"Hello, Eadlyn. Did you read the paper this morning?" He asked, referring to the news story about the riots.

Yes." I pause, I swear if this is what he's making me later for... "At least nobody died this time."

"That's good. " pause. He pushes up his glasses, runs a hand through is already disheveled blonde hair. Sighs, then mutters, "people are running rampant."

There's a silence. I'm not quite sure what to say. Dear God, I'm not going to be good at this queen thing.

"Eadlyn, can you work on those budget cuts for me?"

"Yeah, sure, okay." I say, letting tiredness slip into my voice. I yawn. "I'm gonna go now."

Daddy seems to want to say something else, but I scurry out of the room before he can.

Fuck. I'm going to be up all night with those Damn budget cuts. But I already have plans to be up all night with somebody special. Whatever, I'll get up early to do them. Gosh, being heir to the throne is hard work.

I run down the hall, heels clacking loudly. I pick up my skirts as I skid down the stairs to the kitchens, praying, though I've never been the religious sort, to God that she's still there. As I get down there, I check my reflection in the door. Dark brown hair and hazel eyes. Olive skin tone. I look like a younger version of my grandmother, who I've never met. Oftentimes I'd look at the portrait of her when she was younger, trying to guess at how I'd look when I am older. Looking myself, I repeat my mantra in my head.

You are Eadlyn Schreave.

You are Eadlyn Schreave, and next in line for throne.

You are Eadlyn Schreave, and you are going to become Queen.

You are Eadlyn Schreave, and you will be the first Queen to hold the title in her own right.

You are Eadlyn Schreave, and is as powerful as you.

I take a deep breathe, and push open the heavy, metal door that leads to my one bit of true happiness.

"You are Eadlyn Schreave, and your heart leaps into the air and melts into a puddle every time you see a certain maid named Olivia Lands. 


	4. Chapter 3: A Spare Room For Two

I push open the doors, and look around the giant ass kitchen. Huge metal machines surround the room: ovens, stoves and refrigerators that can cook for hundreds of people at a time. Over to the corner there is the dishwashing center with large sinks, that has a sophisticated look to it, somehow managed to wash all the pots, pans, plates, cup, utensils, and whatever else the palace manages to dirty in a day.

My breathe hitches when I see the familiar back of a figure standing at one of the sinks, finishing washing the dishes.

Dirty blonde hair spills out of the messy on top of the petite girl's head. Despite being exactly eleven months younger than myself, and several inches shorter than me, even sans the heels, I know that Olivia is far wiser than me. She turns towards me, probably hearing my stupid shoes, even though I was trying to be quiet. She curtsies, a white platter still in her hand.

"Hello, Your Highness," Olivia says delicately, brown eyes wide and looking around, worridly. She knows just as well as I do that neither of us can be caught. "How might I be of your assistance thus evening?"

"Liv, we're alone. Dad is surely going to bed by now, as well as Mom. Osten crashed after dinner, and Kaden as well. Lady Marlee and her husband are gone. Kile and Josie are at the far end of the palace. The only person we really need to mind is Ahren, I think he's still awake, writing love letters to Camille."

Osten, Kaden and Ahren are my brothers. Camille is the Princess of France. She and Ahren are madly in love. A fairytale. Lady Marlee is Mom's assistant, her husband works at the palace. Like is their son, who's older than myself and a bit odd. Josie is there younger daughter who dreams of a prince and always steals my tiaras.

As if to verify my words, she takes one more quick glance around the room, her eyes fluttering around the room. Then, Olivia gently places the dish and rag on top of the counter. And proceeds to run over to me and wrap her arms snugly around my neck. As her arms come up, I tangle my long fingers into her hair, fumbling around the bun. I pull her into a kiss, at first it's frantic and hard, our lips crushing each other as if we were saying goodbye. Once we get into it, it's slow and passionate, deep and loving. My smooth lips against her trough, chapped ones. We stop momentarily for breathe, each of us gasping for air. Liv's standing on her toes, her face inches from mine. When she exhales, I feel her warm breath dance across my eyelashes.

She chuckles softly, as if to say slow down there, girl, then entangled her arms, and I let go of her. Liv returns to her dishes, as they need to be done, while I grab a broom from the closet and begin to sweep quickly.

"Why did they put you down here, alone?" I inquire quietly. "Aren't there suppose to be a couple of other maids down here, too?"

"Yes, but Mary put Rose and Linda, the girls that were supposed to work with me, on the second floor. She said that she thought I could handle it. Not to boast, but she was sorta right!" Liv responds gleefully, and a laugh at her comment. For everything Olivia does, she deserves a moment to boast.

We work in a comfortable silence for a while. I finish sweeping and throw the trash away, then helping her finish the last of the dishes, Liv washes, I dry and put away. When we're done, we stand next to each other. She gives me a quick peck on the lips, and I savor it. I love the way that her lips taste.

"Want to find a spare bedroom?" I ask casually, and Liv nods her answer.

I grab her hand and we begin to walk away, but my noisy heels make their click clack clackin sounds on the floor.

"Damn these shoes," I mutter as I bend down to take them off. The tile is cold on my feel. "That's better."

Together we run down the hallway, Olivia's hand in mine, my heels ing other, and up the stairs. I stop at the first floor landing, and look around. There are a few guards down here, but most are to the other end of the corridor, not looking in our direction. All clear. I'm a little more cautious than I should be, but even at this hour, people could still be watching.

Once we are one the second floor, however, there are more guards, as this is closer to floor were the Royal family- my family, resides. I locate the room furthest from the staircase, but not at the end of the hall. None are in use. There are thirty five to pick from. There are thirty five rooms for the thirty five Selected men that soon will be picked.

I shake the thought away. I am with Olivia right now, I will not ruin this moment with the thought of the torture to come.

We choose one that is a bit around the corridor. Silently, we walk down the hallway, trying not to alert the guards. If any of them noticed us, they didn't ask questions.

Liv enters the room, and I close the door, not bothering to look at the room, then I double check the lock. It won't protect us if one of the guards catches us, but it will do what we need done- keep my family, and the maids, out. My heels are tossed to the side. Fuck those shoes.

Olivia turns and looks at me, a devious smile graces her lips. There is no sign of the shy, fragile maid she was down in the kitchen. I look at her with a matching smile. We are two devils plotting an evil scheme in bed.

Suddenly, were kissing, each of us take the position we were in downstairs. My fingers thread through her locks of yellow, carefully undoing her hair. Olivia fumbles with my dress. Finally, I can't take this much longer. I pick her up bridal style and place her sitting on the bed, my body in front if her.

As we kiss, I slowly rid her of the palace issued maid uniform. Liv has no problem undressing me after a few moments, having done this some amount of times before.

We lay down naked next to one another, cuddling and kissing and talking. We chat about our day and I mention budget cuts and stupid things some of the officials said at the meeting.

Neither of us takes it farther than that, though.


	5. Chapter 4: Bad to Worse

The next morning, I wake up to Liv giving me little kisses on my shoulder. I savor moments like these, when it's just she and I.

I squint at the wall clock. It's just past five am. Damn... too early for this shit.

I feel Liv wrap her arms around me, hugging me close. I smile and turn my face toward hers, my lips once again finding her lips. She laughs a little.

"C'mon. Gotta go get dressed. Have to work." She mumbles against my skin.

Sighing, I sit up, letting the blanket fall off my body as I pick my dress up off the floor. I pull it up over my body, hastily fastening it back up. I look over at my blonde beauty, who has moved out of the bed and is making it, expertly redressing the bed, fluffing the pillows. When she turns back around, I smirk. I like this view of her body, and I go as far a telling her this.

Olivia puts her uniform back on in record time, then we both head to the door. I stop to pick up my forgotten heels. I won't put them on, as they will make too much noise, and I absolutely have to be silent.

Hand in hand, Olivia and I walk down the corridor. When we turn down the hallway, their is a pair of guards in their matching uniforms. Quickly, Liv unlinks her fingers from mine and falls into step behind me, as a maid is suppose to do. The guards nod in my direction as we get close. I fix my hair as we pass them.

At the staircase, we part ways. She for the maid's rooms on the first floor, I for my bedroom on the third.

I get to my room, and immediately head to my closet, rumaging through dozens of outfits, looking for pajamas. When I finally find a pair, I strip from my dress and slip, and change into the soft blue short sleeved silk top and matching bottoms. I find a stray coat hanger and put the dress on it, then throw it on a hook on my closet door for Neena to deal with. Next, I side my cotton pink bunny slippers and shuffle over to my four poster bed, and throw the purple comforter and white sheets back, replicating how messy my bed looks usually in the morning. Typically I toss and turn in sleep, never comfortable. Finally, I open the curtains, revealing the spectacular view if the gardens that I have. Now it looks like I was totally here last night. Hopefully.

With that out of the way, it's now almost five twenty five, according to the clock. I plop down at my desk in a rather ungraceful manner, and proceed to work on the stupid budget cuts until seven. That's when there's a knock at the door.

"Enter!" I call, not looking up from my math. Neena walks in and curtsies.

She's here to get me ready for breakfast.

Neena's black hair is tied into braids today. Her hair is different everyday. It's one of the things I like about her; she wears the standard palace maid shirt, skirt and cap, but adds her own spin to it. I've never actually told her this, because then she would know that I cared about her. At least, in a friend-cares-for-a-friend sort of way. Nothing more than that.

The girl draws my bath, filling the huge tub with warm, soapy, lavender scented water. Neena so I can undress. I toss my pajamas to the side, and lower myself into the bubbly water. After washing my hair with shampoo that smells like flowers, I rinse off the soap, and get out of the tub, grabbing a fluffy, white towel as I go, wrapping it around my body.

When I exit the bathroom, Neena is waiting for me. She sits me down, at my vanity, then tugs gently through my dark hair with a brush. Next, I quickly go to my closet once again, and shuffle through my outfits. I eventually decide on a white tank top, grey cardigan, skinny jeans and black flats.

Once I'm dressed, Neena applies makeup to my face. I ask her to go for a natural look. No Hoe-Face.

I head downstairs for breakfast, which is typically an intimate affair. My parents sit at the ends of the table. Osten sits across from me, next to Ahren, who sits across from Kaden. I enjoy tines when it's just my family at breakfast, when Lady Marlee's family absent. I know that I only have a few left, before thirty five random ass men will be present at meals. The Selection is to be held in less than six months. Which is absolutely craptastic if you ask me. I am a strong, independent girl, who will soon be ruling a country. I don't need a man.

I need a woman. Specifically, a woman named Olivia Lands originally from the providence of Sumner.

After breakfast, I head to Dad's office, for work. I bring him the finished budget cuts, which he appears incredibly grateful for. Then he dismisses me. He tells me that I will have the rest of the day off. As I am told this he looks like he is trying to hide a guilty face. This I don't take into second thought.

I race down two the first floor, and stop by the kitchens, the most likely place my darling Olivia will be.

I peek in, but she is not there, so I dart back upstairs, and hole up in my bedroom. I grab my sketchpad from the top of my desk, then curl up on my bed and begin to sketch my dress for The Report; which is in six days, as today is a Sunday.

Josie-the little brat- knocks on my door, wanting to borrow one of my tiaras. I tell her 'no' and reprimand her for talking to the future Queen like that.

I spend the rest of the day sketching whatever pleases me. I draw the outline of a small girl with big eyes. I realize what- no who- I had started to draw, and quickly turn the page to a clean one. Out of habit, I look around guiltily, before I remember I'm alone in my room. Staring out the big window, looking at the pretty garden, I begin to daydream of Monday, when I get to see her next. Liv and I agreed this morning that Monday would be a good time to see each other. I even ring a maid to bring my lunch to me, hoping that Olivia would be the girl sent up. Alas, no cigar.

Around dinner, there's a frantic knock on my white, oak door, startling me.

"Come in!" I yell, a bit to loud, flipping my sketchbook closed.

I maneuver to get off the bed, and sit on the side, as Mom and Dad come in.

Wait-what? Mom? Dad?

What are they doing here? I ask myself. Rarely do they come into my bedroom. Most of our "good morning"s and "'Night"s took place at the dining room table.

Mom enters before Dad. That's how it usually is, when they're not King and Queen-just husband and wife- Dad trails after Mom. When they are King and Queen, Mom stands beside him, or a step behind.

"Hi, sweetheart." Mom says. She takes a look around. "Where's Neena?"

"I don't know. I didn't need her for anything." I reply, "What brings you to my humble dwelling?"

Dad chuckles.

"We just wanted to talk to you privately." He pauses.

"About what?"

"The Selection," I suck in a breathe. This was a sore topic between my parents and I. When they told me about it on my eighteenth birthday, I caused quite an argument between us. Besides

"Yes?..." I urge him to continue.

"We know that you wanted to rule independent of a man, but..." He fumbles, and his eyes dart to Mom, practically screaming 'Dear God, woman save me!'

"Please, just spit it out, you're making me more nervous holding back. Besides, my Selection isn't for months!" I exclaim.

"It's just that," Mom says, and Dad's eyes scream his thanks. "With the riots and threats lately... we decided to move it up."

My eyes go wide, and I'm pissed. "What!?"

I'm going to have to tell Olivia.

"Eadlyn, listen to us. When your father and I got married, it was one of the best seasons thus country has had. Remember when we announced that we were going to have Osten?"

Yes. Everybody was so excited, on the night of the announcement, I heard the music until dawn.

I smiled, a little before remembering I'm mad. "It was marvelous."

"The country's in turmoil right now, and the people need a distraction, until your mother and I can think if a permanent way to put down these rebels." Dad's tone is scary.

Rebels. A shiver involuntarily runs up my spin. This is the first time I've heard the people causing called that.

There is a terrible silence, where all I can think about is Olivia. Should I come clean? Tell them of my relationship with Liv?

"Dad, when has it been moved up to?"

"A week from this Friday. The Selection will be announced on the next The Report."

I almost choke. A week from Friday? I do the math. Monday... Tuesday... Wednesday... that gives Olivia and I only thirteen days of peace together!

I want to cry. Why is this happening?

"If I don't find someone by the end of this, do I have to choose a husband?" I ask. It's my only hope left.

"We will only need three months for a plan to go into action. Yes, if , after three months, you feel like you don't see a future with any of the gentlemen, then you can call The Selection off."

Three months. Okay, I can do that.

"Alright."

"Eadlyn, I know that you can do this." Mom says, rufflling my hair.

They stay a few more minutes, then leave.

I stand there, shocked, gasping for breath. I don't FUCKING want a Selection! Suddenly, this huge freaking palace seems like a stuffy, wooden shack.

Before I can stop myself, I'm bolting out of my room, and am running down the hall. Where can I go? Ahren? Yes, we're close, as twins are, but that doesn't seem right. Outside? No. Mom will find me, the garden is her favorite place here. Osten and Kaden are no no's. Osten won't understand. Kaden thinks he knows everything. No. Olivia? Definitely no,not yet, at least. Where to hid?

I dash down the hall a few more minutes, letting my feet decide my destination. Until they stop at a door, then my brain kicks in, and I'm confused.

Because this is the last person I want to see. But, because I'm lost and confused and don't know what to do, I knock.

The occupant opens the door, and looks just as confused as I feel.

This door belongs to Kile Woodwork


	6. Chapter 5: Therapy Session with Kile Woo

Kile stands holding the door open, the look on his face clearly stating that he doesn't want me here. He attempts to make his face look happy, but it is a pained phantom of the look.

"Your Royal Highess. What did I do to be graced with your magnificent presence this evening?" His voice drips with false happiness and sarcasm.

I stand there awkwardly for a moment, still stunned that I ended up at his room. When I wait a beat too long to respond, he clears his throat.

"Mmm... Yes, sorry," I recover. Mentally I'm trying to piece together what to say.

"If your just gonna stand there, don't bother me."

He moves to shut the door.

"No! Wait! I need someone to talk to."

"Don't you have Ahren to talk to?" Kile asks, the door inches from being closed. "You two are close "

"Yes."

"Then go talk to him." Despite his words, he opens the door.

"I can't, he's busy." I lie.

"Alright, Your Highness," He says it with less sarcasm this time. "Come in."

I don't say thank you, but the look he gives me makes me believe that he knows.

Kile Woodwork's bedroom looks like a miniature bomb exploded. Dirty clothes were everywhere; on the end of his bed, on the couch, hanging from the end of the desk. Papers were everywhere. What looked like building plans covered the majority of flat space in the large room. Even the walls.

I was disgusted.

"Do tell what brings you to my room, Eadlyn." He says, in a bored tone, as if l was bothering him. I clean off a spot on his couch, and, instead of answering his question, I say:

"Does your butler not do his job? It looks as if a small animal made your room their territory."

"I resent that, you know. And, no my butler doesn't clean. I told him that I didn't need him." He says, sitting a safe distance away from me. Rude.

"But... why?"

"Do you expect me to stay in this palace forever? I want to do something with my life. But that's not why you came here." Of course. Kile had just come back from some college in Fenley.

"The Selection is what's bothering me." I confess.

"So? You've known for months."

"My parents just told me that it's been moved up. The drawing for it is in less than two weeks!" I exclaim. How could this boy not understand the severity of the situation?!

There's a silence, Which is, at first, awkward, but then becomes comfortable.

"And you don't want a Selection?" Kile finally asks.

I shake my head no. I feel the burn of tears behind my eyelids. I blink them back. Kile Woodwork is the last person allowed to see me cry. Hell, he wouldn't be allowed to see my cry if we were the last people in existence.

There's another silence-boy, this is the most silent, speaking conversation I've ever had, and one time, I accompanied Dad on a trip to a country where the the Princess was mute.

"Eadlyn, I have something to say." Kile's tone of voice drops, and it becomes soft, less defensive. Maybe he's finally learnt that I'm a friend. not foe.

"Spit it out!"

"One time, I saw you kissing a girl on the first floor."

It takes me a second to react, but when I do, I freak.

"WHAT?! Who else knows?" My voice is a scratchy, whisper yell. I get up close and personal to his face. Any other girl would have found his face attractive. I found his face annoying as hell.

Kile pales, terrified. But he's taller and stronger than myself, and he seems to realise this fact, straightening up against the back of the couch. So much for friends.

"Nobody. I didn't tell anybody else; it wasn't my business."

I realax. "Okay. Why'd you bring it up, then?"

"I was just wondering..." He trails off, mumbling.

"Wondering what? That I'm a dirty lesbian?"

"Well, not in so many words, but yes."

"Yes, I'm a lesbian," I admit to my second confession of the night. Progress. "and I'm dating the girl. Now you see the full problem here."

"The Selection is for entertainment and-slash-or distraction, then?" I nod. "I was reading about the Selection," I look at him, confused. What was he doing, looking up the Selection? "It's not that weird. Anyway, in the past, there was this thing about not having to find a partner in the Selection."

"I know, Dad says that I can call it off after three months. But how does this help?"

"I'm getting to that. There's no getting around the Selection. So, if you can't, then you might as well have fun with it." A devious smirk caresses his lips.

"I don't understand." I state, because I really have know idea what he's hinting at.

"I'm saying, you can fuck the Selected up real bad. Pull pranks on them, or assert your dominance over them. Really, you can make them do anything you want them to do."

Suddenly, I get what he's saying. Why didn't I think of it first.

I stand up quickly, and rush to the door.

"Thanks Kile!" I call as I leave. Maybe we can be friends. "I'll make sure that your properly compensated for your help. I heard your interested in architecture."

I hear him chuckle little as I exit.

I'm ready to really fuck up some poor, innocent men. I can tell that the Selection will be fun, not the horror and torment that I originally thought it to be. Just for a different reason than love. I grin as I practically skip down the hall.

But first, Olivia needs to get in on this action.


	7. Chapter 6: The Will Be Fun

Kile stands holding the door open, the look on his face clearly stating that he doesn't want me here. He attempts to make his face look happy, but it is a pained phantom of the look.

"Your Royal Highess. What did I do to be graced with your magnificent presence this evening?" His voice drips with false happiness and sarcasm.

I stand there awkwardly for a moment, still stunned that I ended up at his room. When I wait a beat too long to respond, he clears his throat.

"Mmm... Yes, sorry," I recover. Mentally I'm trying to piece together what to say.

"If your just gonna stand there, don't bother me."

He moves to shut the door.

"No! Wait! I need someone to talk to."

"Don't you have Ahren to talk to?" Kile asks, the door inches from being closed. "You two are close "

"Yes."

"Then go talk to him." Despite his words, he opens the door.

"I can't, he's busy." I lie.

"Alright, Your Highness," He says it with less sarcasm this time. "Come in."

I don't say thank you, but the look he gives me makes me believe that he knows.

Kile Woodwork's bedroom looks like a miniature bomb exploded. Dirty clothes were everywhere; on the end of his bed, on the couch, hanging from the end of the desk. Papers were everywhere. What looked like building plans covered the majority of flat space in the large room. Even the walls.

I was disgusted.

"Do tell what brings you to my room, Eadlyn." He says, in a bored tone, as if l was bothering him. I clean off a spot on his couch, and, instead of answering his question, I say:

"Does your butler not do his job? It looks as if a small animal made your room their territory."

"I resent that, you know. And, no my butler doesn't clean. I told him that I didn't need him." He says, sitting a safe distance away from me. Rude.

"But... why?"

"Do you expect me to stay in this palace forever? I want to do something with my life. But that's not why you came here." Of course. Kile had just come back from some college in Fenley.

"The Selection is what's bothering me." I confess.

"So? You've known for months."

"My parents just told me that it's been moved up. The drawing for it is in less than two weeks!" I exclaim. How could this boy not understand the severity of the situation?!

There's a silence, Which is, at first, awkward, but then becomes comfortable.

"And you don't want a Selection?" Kile finally asks.

I shake my head no. I feel the burn of tears behind my eyelids. I blink them back. Kile Woodwork is the last person allowed to see me cry. Hell, he wouldn't be allowed to see my cry if we were the last people in existence.

There's another silence-boy, this is the most silent, speaking conversation I've ever had, and one time, I accompanied Dad on a trip to a country where the the Princess was mute.

"Eadlyn, I have something to say." Kile's tone of voice drops, and it becomes soft, less defensive. Maybe he's finally learnt that I'm a friend. not foe.

"Spit it out!"

"One time, I saw you kissing a girl on the first floor."

It takes me a second to react, but when I do, I freak.

"WHAT?! Who else knows?" My voice is a scratchy, whisper yell. I get up close and personal to his face. Any other girl would have found his face attractive. I found his face annoying as hell.

Kile pales, terrified. But he's taller and stronger than myself, and he seems to realise this fact, straightening up against the back of the couch. So much for friends.

"Nobody. I didn't tell anybody else; it wasn't my business."

I realax. "Okay. Why'd you bring it up, then?"

"I was just wondering..." He trails off, mumbling.

"Wondering what? That I'm a dirty lesbian?"

"Well, not in so many words, but yes."

"Yes, I'm a lesbian," I admit to my second confession of the night. Progress. "and I'm dating the girl. Now you see the full problem here."

"The Selection is for entertainment and-slash-or distraction, then?" I nod. "I was reading about the Selection," I look at him, confused. What was he doing, looking up the Selection? "It's not that weird. Anyway, in the past, there was this thing about not having to find a partner in the Selection."

"I know, Dad says that I can call it off after three months. But how does this help?"

"I'm getting to that. There's no getting around the Selection. So, if you can't, then you might as well have fun with it." A devious smirk caresses his lips.

"I don't understand." I state, because I really have know idea what he's hinting at.

"I'm saying, you can fuck the Selected up real bad. Pull pranks on them, or assert your dominance over them. Really, you can make them do anything you want them to do."

Suddenly, I get what he's saying. Why didn't I think of it first.

I stand up quickly, and rush to the door.

"Thanks Kile!" I call as I leave. Maybe we can be friends. "I'll make sure that your properly compensated for your help. I heard your interested in architecture."

I hear him chuckle little as I exit.

I'm ready to really fuck up some poor, innocent men. I can tell that the Selection will be fun, not the horror and torment that I originally thought it to be. Just for a different reason than love. I grin as I practically skip down the hall.

But first, Olivia needs to get in on this action.


	8. Chapter 7: Two Problems

{Fair warning: towards the bottom there is a short graphic scene in italics. It's hardly porn, but I just thought a heads up would be needed. Read at your own risk, I guess.}

I knew that for every maid seen in the palace, a hundred more were working behind the scene. I just didn't realize how many workers that the palace held. The next days until Friday, there must have been a thousand or more people coming in and out of my house, preparing for my Selection. Mom said that even more people would be working the week of the drawing. Just great I had thought.

Although I had opened my mind to this crazy ass idea, I was still pretty jittery all day on Friday. Today I would announce the Selection, and The next week men from all over Illea would have the opportunity to enter. Usually the people would have a month to enter, Mom had told me, but my parents had procrastinated on telling me, and they needed a distraction now, not later.

The only good part about this whole damn thing was that my typical heavy workload of papers and reading was lifted. The Selection was the focus of everyone in the palace. I had spent hours this week helping the staff pick out minor details like decor and dresses and the meals that would be prepared, this I actually enjoy, to be honest. I hadn't realized that there were so many shades of each color, I mean, I knew there were many from the gowns that I design, but really, there must be like, fifty of each color shade. Especially the grey.

Now, Friday evening, I was getting ready for The Report. I had created a dress just for tonight. It was a simple deep red silk with a sweetheart neckline that was bejewled with tiny silver rhinestones at the neck and bottom of the skirt. It was truly stunning, but the dress hugged me tightly, to the point that sometimes it was awkward to move. I silently swear at myself for making it a size too small What the fuck was I thinking?

I sit in the studio with my family in front of the camera. Dad's advisers and officials were fathered near him. Miss Marlee, Josie, Kile and Miss Marlee's husband sat on the other side of the camera, Kile has is head shoved up a book, as the matters of our nation are beneath him, apparently. Next to them sit General Ledger and Miss Lucy. Ledger kisses Lucy gently on the forehead, and I recall an earlier conversation I had accidentally overheard between Mom and Lucy. It was about how Lucy couldn't have kids. This made me sad; if anybody deserved to be parents, it was General Ledger and Miss Lucy.

My Mom attempted to make idle chit chat with me, but I wasn't really into it. I was nervous, it wasn't because I was about to start the search for my life partner, but because I was telling the country about a Selection that there would be no winner of. And I feel a bit guilty about it. I could call it off before it even starts. Before the people get too hopeful. But then my parents wouldn't have their distraction, and just the other day, I acknowledged that I'm not very nice. I know I promised myself that I would be nicer, but how nice could you be to the thirty five men about to invade your home? Your space? Not very, is my conclusion.

Eventually it's called for us to take our seats, and The Report begins. There's not much to say about it. Blah blah blah... negotiations... blah blah blah blah... Illea... blah blah blah... New Asia...

Finally, finally, at long last Gavril calls my name, and I confidently strut-yes strut- over to the stand next to him.

"I believe that Her Highness, Princess Eadlyn has some special news to share with Illea?" He asks.

"Yes, Gavril. I think this piece of news is quite exciting."

"Well, go on, tell us." I laugh at how up front he is, trying to cover up a bit of awkward tension that slipped loose.

"Of course. I am extremely happy to announce that I am looking for a partner. Someone to spend my life with. My parents said that this wouldn't happen, but I've decided that the best way to find a husband is through a Selection!" I pause, for dramatic effect.

"Tomorrow, letters will be sent to all eligible young men between the ages of sixteen and nineteen. They will have less than one week to complete the form and turn it in." I pause. "And a quick reminder- this isn't a game, gentlemen, this is my life."

I put as much threat into that last sentence. They need to know that this is serious.

Gavril, who must be a million years old at this point, makes a comment about the Princess being all grown up, and I head back to my seat.

Shortly afterwards, the show ends, and I sigh in relief. Not much longer until this hell is over.

The next week passes surprisingly fast. People coming and going. My Mom gets excited about the Selection. Olivia and I meet every night in a spare room and talk strategy, what torture I have planned for the boys. I would lie naked next to each other, running our fingers gently over Liv's body, as she would do the same to me. Then I would lean over and kiss her, and we would be in out own little world. Also, we may have had sex once or twice that week, but details, details...

It's once again Friday evening. Earlier, Dad had brought me to a room with thirty five baskets, one for each providence. He made me choose an envelop from each basket while his posse of government officials watched. This, Dad said; refering to choosing the envelop, was an opportunity that he did not get. Next he said I'd open them live on The Report.

Now it was time for The Report, and, quite frankly, I just wanted this to be over.

I sat through the news, paying attention to nothing. I just sat there in my assigned seat, not completely there, though. I was thinking about last night with Olivia.

She ran her fingers over my body, sending shivers racing up my spine. The girl would tease me placing her fingers near me, but not in. It made me frustrated. I wanted her to make love to me. I bet she was enjoying this. Making me beg for her...

I come back to the present, where Mom is tapping me on the shoulder. Apparently, Gavril announced me in the couple of seconds that I had zoned out. Bastard, I thought. I mutter a quick, "Sorry." to Mom, and make my way to the stand, my skirt swishing as I walk. On top of the stand sits a single basket with thirty five envelops.

Tonight I would get my first glance at my suitors.

My victims. I smile wickedly at the thought. Poor souls, I really don't like this idea, I think.

I give a little speech about how excited I am to finally know the young men who will attempt to win my heart. Then I reach for the first envelop in the basket.

I open the first one, the white envelop on top. "From Likely... Mr. MacKendrick Shepard." I hold up his photo and the room applauds.

"From Zuni... Mr Winslow Fields."

Applause. Next envelop.

"From Sumner... Mr. Ethan Lands."

Fuck. Ethan Lands? As I show his photo to the room, I pray this isn't Olivia's older brother. I remember her saying that she had one. He was sold to a different family than Liv. She managed to stay in contact with him. He had eventually found proper work in their home providence of Sumner. He sent Liv letters, saying that soon he'd have enough money to come get her. Liv said his name was... Ethan. Well, fuck.

There is an applause after every name, which is quite unnecessary, if you ask me.

At last, I reach the final one. My feet hurt from my sophisticated heels, and my head pounds. I tear it open, almost giving myself a papercut.

"Ooh, from Angeles..." I falter and pause, longer than I meant to. This is because I hate the name written there. "Mr. Kile Woodwork." I finish lamely. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The reactions that fill the room are greater than my falter. Several gasps, a handful of awkward laughs, and a couple of my Dad's crew applauded, indifferent to what is currently going down.

Recomposing myself, I pull in a breath, and carry on.

"Well, there you have it. Tomorrow advisers will be sent to prep the Selected. And on Monday they will report to the palace. Until then, I think these young men should be congratulated." I push my face even more into a smile, so much that I think it's almost comical scary. Then, I begin the applause, and others join in, until the sound fills the room. When it's over, I quickly retreat to my seat. I don't think I did a very good job of hiding how sick I felt. But right now, I don't care. Fuck the country, I need a moment.

Ethan and Kile? What divine forces are working against me? Hell, why did Kile even enter.

1\. He doesn't even like me.

2\. Kile knows that I'm a lesbian.

3\. The boy knows I don't want a stupid Selection.

4\. He better not fucking tell anyone about my plans. I might actually have him executed if he does.

Gavril finished signing off. As soon as he's done, the room explodes into a complete shitstorm of noise. It makes the pounding in my head sing with pain.

I follow my parents over to the Woodworks, where Josie is laughing childishly. Gracefully, I sit next to Kile, and give him an intense death glare

"I didn't do it, I swear!" The runt protests. "I don't want to do this.",

"It doesn't matter," Mom says. "Anyone of age could put his name in."

"Do you know who put your name in?" I ask, without malice, making him look at me suspiciously. Glancing over to the corner, I notice Ledger and Lucy laughing quietly. This isn't funny.

"No. Pick someone else."

"It doesn't work like that, she already announced your name to the public. You're officially a part of the Selection." Dad says.

"Then eliminate me first!"

"Where would you go?" I ask. "You live here. I imagine that that won't go down with the others."

"Send me away!" Kile is pretty desperate right now. I feel sorry for both him and myself. We're both in a situation that we'd rather not be in.

"You're not leaving, Kile!" Miss Marlee exclaims. Wow. Attachment issues much? I knew that Kile had applied for an architectural college in Fenley, but I didn't know how much he had wanted to go. After our conversation two weeks ago, I felt like we were friends, sort of. In two weeks, we talked together more than we had in eighteen years.

When all this is over, I'll make sure he gets to go to that college. It's the least I can do, since I'm usually an asshole to him.

During the pause in the conversation, I realized that I was supposed to make a snide remark.

"Remember that conversation we had, Kile? About the Selection?"

We never talked about the Selection after my confession two weeks ago, but I think he gets the point, as he says, "Yes." in a stiff tone.

"I assume what we talked about still applies?"

"Yes."

All the adults look confused as fuck. Whatever.

I stand up and turn on my heel to exit the studio

I need some painkillers, a glue gun, a whiteboard and markers, and Olivia

We need to up our game. With Kile as a participant, forsee this to be more fun than originally planned.


	9. Chapter 8: The Men Arrive dear god he

That night, I receive confirmation from Olivia that, yes, indeed, her brother was chosen to compete in my Selection. Well, this is going to be an awkward three months. Kile and Ethan both in the Selection. What the fuck is going on? It's like the gods are all put against me.

If I thought that the two weeks leading up to the shitshow choosing of the Selected, then obviously I hadn't been paying too much attention to Dad's little speeches prepping me for the "best moment of my life".(as he called it. I called bullshit.). It wasn't that there was a ton of people invading my person space, it's just that three or four people kept going on about stuff that I viewed as minority unimportant. For instance, a decorator was unsure if the suites were suited enough for the boys about to infest my home. I don't know what these little boys like. I don't know anything about boys besides that they are obnoxious and smelly and loud. Clearly I know nothing of this subject.

Luckily, I have are really patient girlfriend, who was willing to stay up till three in the morning to talk about my shallow issues.

Since there were only two days until He'll- I mean the Selection, I didn't know what to do. I chose to spend most of my time either sketching or, when night came, seeking Olivia's company and companionship, if you know what I mean.

Eventually, Monday morning rolls around. I wake to Neena entering my room at around nine. She throws open the curtains cheerfully, whistling a gentle tune. "Time to wake up, Your Highness. You've got a big day ahead if you!" I groaned as the sunlight hit my face at a million miles per hour. Now, normally, I'm an O.K. person in the mornings. It's just that I didn't sleep last night. I was too busy finalizing some really fun ways to fuck with the boys. Also, my stupid brain wouldn't stop thinking about today. If I could fire my brain the way I used to fire palace staff that pissed me off, I totally would. Then I decided to go through the pictures of the Selected, and memorize their names. I didn't even get through half of them by myself.

Aunt May visited the palace over the weekend. She seemed more excited for the Selection than I am. We went through the pictures together, and she gave comments on each and every boy. She told me which ones she thought were cute, and Mom had to remind her that the Selection was for me. I love my Aunt May. She's always been there for my brothers and I- and our cousins, Astra and Leo- because she could never settle. The woman has a new boyfriend almost every month.

I slowly sit my aching body up, and watch the blankets slide to the floor. I slip on my slippers and shuffle to the bathroom, not bothering with my robe, and barely glancing at the beautiful, light blue sun dress I had chosen to wear today. This morning the thirty-five Selected arrive. Well, technically thirty four because Kile already lives here. My goal for the Selection is to talk it up with Liv's brother, that way, when she eventually comes out to him, it's not completely terrible.

Stopping at the bathroom mirror, I rub sleep from my tired eyes. Then, hesitantly, I look at myself in the mirror. Yikes. I'm a mess. I didn't even mange to make it look a cute mess. My eyes have dark bruise-like rings underneath my hazel eyes. My face looks a bit pale and sickly, so I turn on the faucet and splash chilly water on my face. My dark hair looks like a small animal nested in it.

I'm wiping water droplets off my chin with a towel when Neena comes in to start my bath. I like baths more than showers. I can pretend to drown myself in the bathtub. It solves my issues, temporarily...

We go through my normal morning routine. Bath. Dressed. Hair brushed. Makeup to cover my raccoon eyes and a bit to make my face less pale, nothing else. Neena attempts to do my hair in braids, but I ask her to leave it down. She asks me what's wrong. I tell her that I'm just tired. Standard bitch response.

After Neena leaves, I'm not sure what to do with myself. I really don't want to go downstairs. The cameras were already invading my home. Not to mention, Josie is probably running around, sticking her nose in other people's business. Or telling the camera all my secrets. Well, atleast she doesn't know my biggest secret. Also, going downstairs holds the risk of encountering my parents. I'm still a little pissed at them for forcing all this onto me. So leaving the comfort of my room might not be the best idea. I could always talk to Ahren. Yes, I decide, I'll talk to my twin. Admittedly, he has always been the wiser one of the two of us.

Quickly and silently, I leave the isolation of my bedroom. Luckily, all the rooms for the Royal family are located on the fifth floor, the most protected floor. Ahren's door is right down the hall. He used to occupy the one across from my own, but when we were ten, the boy wanted his own space. I reach his door, and quietly rap my knuckles on his oak door. It takes less than a minute for my brother to respond with "Come in!" I twist the doorknob and push it open.

My brother is sitting at his desk, seemingly trying to write a letter. He is running a hand through his disheveled light brown hair, a habit he picked up from Dad. He looks up from his writing as I enter. "What's up, Sis?" Ahren asks casually, turning to face me. He sees my face, and suddenly he looks generally concerned.

That's it. With that look from my twin, everything pours out of me. I need to tell someone other than fucking Kile fucking Woodwork. I tell him everything. And I mean everything. Including my most deep secret about the whole deal. I also cry. Something he's almost never seen me do.

"... I don't want a Selection. It's just a distraction! I would care less, but I already love someone!" I'm choking on sobs and salty tears, any thoughts of being a strong future Queen abandoned when I'm with Ahren. "You know what it's like to be in love. You have Camille."

After my cryfest, Ahren leans back in his swirly chair. He sighs. Folds his hands neatly in his lap.

"What's his name?"

Why the fuck does he assume that I have a boyfriend? Whatever, that's not important.

"That's what I should also mention," Deep breaths now, Eadlyn. In. . Don't be over dramatic. "Her name is Olivia."

About five seconds pass as he processes this new information.

"Oh, Eady..." I've stopped crying now, but I'm pretty sure my makeup might be running. Ahren crosses the room to where I'm standing, he takes me into his arms, and together we sit side by side on the couch in the middle of my brother's bedroom. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I haven't even told Mom and Dad about Liv, Ahren. I'm scared. People are already upset with us. Now people who don't like homosexuals will be pissed off. And then there's the fact that a relationship between two girls most definitely won't produce heirs. It doesn't work like that, I'm afraid."

He chuckles at that. "I can't imagine Eadlyn Schreave being anything but brave."

"Thsnks. I want to keep it secret, can you do that, Ahren?"

I feel him nod. We stay in that position for a while, about twenty minutes. After that amount of time, I get up and leave. Thank him for comforting me.

I rocket back to my room, slam the door shut, and throw myself on the bed. I bury my face into the pillows. Nice pillows. Eventually, I start to hear commotion down on the second floor. Those fuckers are here. I ring for Neena to show up. It's close enough to dinner, anyway, and I need to change my outfit. Preferably into something sexy, mature, and frightening. Well, there's always that red gown that Olivia likes...

Neena shows up, and curtsies. "Yes, my lady?"

"I want to look mature tonight." I state.

"Of course,"

And just like that, she gets to work. Scrubbing my nails. Fixing my hair. When that's done, we look through my closet, and I select a black evening gown that is laced with gold trim. I find a menacing pair of black, two inch stilettos. Contrary to popular belief, size does not matter.

"Excellent choice, my lady." Neena praises. "How would you like your hair."

"I think put up will do."

She laughs, "Looking to scare them?"

I grin. "I wish to scare the daylights out of them!"

We giggle. I really love having her here.

I sit silently as she braids my hair up into a crown on my hair. I can tell that this style will only make my tiara look better. The black dress I had worn at the last New Year's Eve party.

Time was up, and I start my descent downstairs. One of the libraries on the fourth floor was converted into a Men's Parlor. It was the same size as the Women's Room, and had lots of books and two televisions. It was a nice place for the selected to gather and chill. And a better one for showing them whose boss around here.

"Oh, Eadlyn, you look so grown up!" Mom gushes. I thank her,and then things start. I ask Mom to leave, for now. I can handle myself. Thank you very much.

The men were brought over and introduced to me, then escorted to the Men's Parlor. I meet all the men. They greet me, we chat a bit, I dismiss them and then they go. A couple are interesting, but most bore me to death. Ean, a cocky boy, stands out, making a funny introduction. Kile shows up. Some more boys show up. I couldn't care less.

Then a boy introduces himself as Ethan Lands.

He tells me about himself. He's from Sumner. Mentions he's got a about the Selection. Then it's over.

Next is a boy named Henri, who needs a translator.

It's a long night, and when it's over, I'm more than ready for dinner.


End file.
